Of Mice and Mortal Boys Or Girls
by ComicbookMedic
Summary: This is the untold story of Tim Drake aka Robin and Mia Dearden aka Speedy. Both the wards of very rich men with crime fighting identities, similar tradgedies bring them together.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** All actual DC Characters are copyright DC Comics. Some characters are the creation of the author._

_**Note:** The story takes place after "War Games" and "Identity Crisis" but right before the events of "Countdown to Infinite Crisis." Speedy is a member of the Teen Titans._

_**Note:** The story is based on actual DC continuity however it does diverge._

_**Author's Note:** This is my first foray into the world that is fan fiction. As such, the format of my story is closer to that of a novel, in the style of my favorite writer (Tom Clancy), than to the traditional fan-fiction style. Still I hope you enjoy the Story. The story is a serial and I will be publishing the chapters as I write them. Constructive Criticism/reviews are welcome and appreciated. _

Of Mice and Mortal Boys (or Girls)

_Chapter One: Secret Files and Origins_

**The harsh** stone eagle was so intricately carved you could almost hear the scream depicted in the sculpting. Robin stood perched on the protrusion looking out over the cityscape as he retracted his grapnel line. It was warm out now, but the "wind tunnel" effect created by the city's skyscrapers made a breeze strong enough to chill him. A shiver ran up his spine, and a frown crept across his face as this was yet another reminder he had yet to obtain the stone cold façade of his mentor. He allowed himself the moment of self pity, and quickly shrugged it off, once again telling himself that of all his teacher's traits; that was not one he aspired to obtain. His openness was what set him apart from Bruce, and what made him Robin, not Batboy. He smiled at the idea of a Batboy, and his thoughts shifted to his friend Connor Kent, better known as Superboy, and how he was able to forge his own identity whilst in the shadow of an Icon if only in Name. But once again, his thoughts shifted, and he remembered about how the openness that he valued so much had brought him pain, when his ex girlfriend Stephanie was murdered. Once again he managed to shrug off his feelings, this time by diving off the gargoyle's head.

**Thud! _Fwish._** The first arrow struck the mannequin with deadly accuracy, right between the eyes as if guided by laser. The second however, grazed the head only slightly, before sailing off to the right. The profanity that spurted from her mouth came almost as quickly as the hand that struck her on the back of her head. "Again." The voice was strangely calm for the sudden outburst of violence. Mia arched her back, and readjusted the strap of her oversized quiver. Her eyes darted back and forth as she scanned the horizon. The pounding in her head was so strong, her eyes blurred with each beat. The target sprung up with such speed, it almost escaped her peripheral vision. She dove forward and to her right, rolling as she had practiced so many times before, her left hand reached back plucking two pointed arrows from behind her, and, flexing the muscles in her back, drew them against the bow string. As she squared the bow with her target's head, she relaxed her fingers, and let the arrows fly. The slap of the string came almost simultaneously with the double-tap thuds of the twin arrows as they entered the ballistic gel cast head and torso. Mia returned to the start line and in a moment of weakness, let a smile creep across her face. Expecting a word of encouragement, she was surprised when the hand found the back of her head one more time. "Again"

**The wind** which had just shaken him to the core now gave Tim the slap in the face he needed, clearing his head of all the distractions clouding his mind. As he rolled forward he reached for his grapnel gun to arrest his free fall. He had done this so many times before it was second nature to him now. He selected his anchor point and without looking, fired. The hiss of the escaping gas was a comforting sound as the piton shot from the gun. Just as expected, the line rapped securely around the fire escape two or three times before becoming taught. The gun pulled from him and he rotated his body, spinning until his heels came to a rest on the brick wall. With the flick of his thumb, and a push of a button, the line began to retract, pulling him rapidly up to the fire escape. He opted to conserve his strength and walked the last flight up to the roof. He looked up at the clear night sky content with the extent of his patrol for the night. It had been relatively quiet, only one mugging and an attempted auto theft. He decided to turn in, knowing that if Bruce was with him, he would want to stay out on patrol. But Bruce wasn't here, he and Dick had left for Keystone on a tip that Pamela Isley, AKA Poison Ivy, was planning to rob the Federal Reserve Bank. With the Flash still AWOL after his last confrontation with Zoom, Batman and the rest of the League had taken it upon themselves to pick up the proverbial slack. Tim was pleased that Batman would trust his city to the junior detective, and was diligent in protecting his home. He stood on the roof's ledge and looked up at the crescent moon, completely oblivious to the leafy tentacle inching its way towards him. As he took a deep breath, he felt a sense of calm rush over him, though calm quickly turned to guarded terror as he realized that he could move neither his arms nor his legs. "Damn!" was all he had time to say, before everything went dark.

**It never** mattered how much water she drank, the horse pills she took daily never went down easy. But for from what the doctors could figure, they were working. Her viral count was for the most part low, and even with her unusual extracurricular activities, her body was holding up relatively well. As she was now weekending with the Teen Titans, Oliver had been giving her more and more leeway as Speedy, even letting her patrol _solo_ on occasion. However with the increased responsibility came increased training and young Mia Dearden was at her breaking point. "I swear Queen, you hit me so hard I thought I was shooting **_four_** arrows at a time!" Mia's attempt at mixing her criticism of Oliver's training regimen with sarcastic humor was unsuccessful in garnishing sympathy from her cynic of a teacher. "Not half as hard as the bad guys Mia, and if you don't think you can take it?..." The retort was quick, "Now that's not what I was saying and you know it Ollie." Her voice turned to a softer tone, "I don't mean to be ungrateful; its just that…." Oliver saw the tears in the young girl's eyes, even though they weren't there yet. He placed his hand on her shoulder and needed not speak any words of comfort for the bond between them was largely that, unspoken. "What about that vacation we talked about? No training, no Titans, just relaxation. So, have you thought of a place?" He was relieved to see the twinkle return to her eyes, "Yeah I have." She smiled, "Gotham, I'm going to Gotham."

_End Chapter One_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two: Will You Catch Me when I Fall?_

**Both the **blood collecting in his head, and the knowledge that he got himself caught was a double head rush. The vine was like a vice around his ankle as he undulated back and forth. He immediately ran through a mental checklist for just this type of situation; taking an immediate tactical assessment. Without making enough movement to show he was awake, he shifted his hips and felt, or rather didn't feel his belt. Ok, no belt, but he still had the R-shaped shiruken on his chest emblem, and, yeah, he still had the stilettos in his free boot. The gas capsules and flash grenades were probably crushed to all hell beneath the viny grip, so no chance of using them to distract whoever had him. The HUD, or Heads Up Display, in his mask was functioning and his comms were active, though he had no way of using them without giving himself away. His hands were bound in such a manner he was unable to finger the emergency beacon on his wrist, he'd have to talk to Dick and Alfred about that. It was a problem he was sure Bruce had dealt with in the past, but Tim's pride would not let him approach his teacher with such a trivial logistical problem; especially now that he was pushing for more responsibility. He bit down hard, rupturing the anti-venom capsule affixed to his molar. He thanked g-d for Bruce's boy scout meets secret agent mentality and tried not to cough as the bitter serum ran down his throat.

**The redeye **flight from Star City to Gotham left at about 11:45 at night. Mia laughed at the thought and reveled in the fact that she was the ward of a_ very _rich man. Though her mind then filled with thoughts of demons and creepy old men…and demons. "Heads up!" Mia turned just quickly enough for the duffel to hit her square in the chest knocking her back a few inches. Besides being able to set her own schedule, taking the private jet had one other distinct advantage. Unlike Gar and Starfire, Mia's superhero identity as Speedy was separate from her civilian identity. And as such she had a costume and gear to transport; a bow and arrows none the less. A private jet leaving from a smaller hangar, drew far less security concerns than the 747 jumbo jet out of gate 4D. She stowed her gear in its proper place, and popped a DVD into the player. Ollie and Connor flipped in the steps and raised the door. Mia shouted her goodbyes from inside the plane, and flopped down in one of the soft leather chairs. As the credits began to roll on the multiple TV screens interspersed throughout the plane, the captain's voice came over the speaker system. "Just sit back and relax young lady, we should have you in Gotham within two hours." She pulled out the rather large case from below her chair and placed her thumb on the sensor. "_Identity Confirmed." _The electronic voice chirped. The case slid open revealing her cape, cowl and bow. "Relax?" She asked no one in particular. Ill show them how Speedy relaxes. She let out a soft chuckle, as the plane lifted off. She stopped paying attention to the movie and as the skyline of the city disappeared, so did her consciousness as she drifted off to sleep.

"**Gin!"** Frank shouted, as he threw his hand down on the table. "Three threes and the four, five, and six of diamonds." Tim cracked open an eye to see three men, Caucasian about 30 years old, sitting around a table, automatic weapons at their sides. H&K MP5 SMG's he observed, capable of semi-automatic, three round burst and full auto firing modes. One of the men, the leader perhaps, looked ex-military. His crew-cut hairstyle and upright posture, were a dead giveaway. The other two looked like extras from a bad movie. Black watch-caps and oversized sweats completed the ensemble. Robin could almost picture them with the classic bandana eye masks, an amusing thought. Switching back to his assessment, he realized that he had to make his escape attempt soon before the situation became any more complicated. "Frank you are such a woman!" Came the angry retort. "Gin is for little old ladies, playin' for pennies. Lets play blackjack or something." Frank was obviously upset by the short reception from his subordinate. "You are just whinin, cause you lost. And if you sass me again, ill shove my gun so far up your ass, you'll be spittin out bullets!" Tim saw the ensuing argument as his window of opportunity. He arched his back, trying to bring his free foot closer to his hands. The plan was to reach the stiletto in his boot and use it to cut his hands free. After that, he planned to use the R shiruken in his chest to debilitate his captors, and cut himself free, the order of which would depend not on him, but rather if he was noticed or not. He fingered the edge of his boot, and with a mix of skill and luck, he managed to slip out one of the lightweight, carbon composite stiletto daggers. He once again blessed Bruce for his over the top, borderline paranoid, preparedness. As he slid the knife back and forth along the first loop of the rope, and it started to tear, Robin began to experience the physiological change of a combatant before a fight. His muscles tensed, and his lungs started to burn. His heart, now beating strong and impossibly fast, caused his vision to blur with every beat. Even the most experienced fighter would be taken aback by the extreme transition from calm to excitement. But Tim was no normal fighter. And no, he wasn't a META, but rather he was a man. A man trained almost to the peak of human perfection, as his master and his predecessors before him. In fact he was so excited at the skirmish soon to come, it took most of his self control to keep himself from screaming when he cut his hands free. He took care not to let the rope fall to the floor, and he thought it strange that the rope and whatever was around his foot did not feel the same, he was about to cut himself free, when the loud squelch of a handheld radio arrested his movement, almost giving him a muscle strain from the sudden start and stop. _"Heads up boys, Ivy'll be there in a half hour." _"IVY?" The voice screamed in his head. "If Ivy is in Gotham, then Batman…." Thoughts rushed his head, "Batman and Nightwing ambushed?" His faith in his teacher alleviated any concerns he had of their well being. His major concern at this point was the rapidly escalating situation he found himself in. Ivy was coming and she had to know he was there. "What was around his leg?" His inner monologue returned, "If Ivy was involved then it must be one of her mutated plants." It struck him as ironic that someone so intent on saving the planet's foliage from man, would create such abominations of science. Robin was not prepared for what came next. The shockwave came rapidly, imploding all the windows in what Robin would later find out was one of the many skyscrapers in Gotham's business district, and knocking the blasé from his hand. The semi sentient plant tightened its already painful grip on Tim's leg and the involuntary "_yelp_" he let out was as much a surprise to him as it was to the three men who were knocked off their feet. Tim scrambled to grab for another stiletto or a shiruken, but before he could recover and react, he took a SMG butt to the ribs, and everything started to slip away again.

**The blast** was barely visible, and from the angle of their approach, neither Mia nor the flight crew noticed the small cluster of flame as they made their descent into Gotham International Airport's private VIP airfield. Unfortunately, this occurrence was almost common place in Gotham, and a mid-city explosion was not cause for the air traffic controller to redirect the incoming flight. The plane banked sharply to the right as it began its final descent, jarring Mia out of her catnap. She was minutes away from landing in Gotham. Maybe she would pay Robin a visit while she was in town.

**His jaw** shattered under the immense pressure of the roundhouse kick. The goon went limp and his body rolled towards the edge of the buildings roof. To say that Batman had a temper was like saying the sun's surface is warm. Tonight, however he was particularly fuming. Not only had he been led on a wild goose chase across the Eastern half of the United States, and by Poison Ivy none the less, but his sidekick had been captured by the very person he was hunting. While Batman regarded Ivy as a deadly foe, her "hired help" were a cacophony of buffoons, and more a chore to dispose of than a challenge. Despite their obvious handicap, the men showed admirable bravado as they charged the Dark Knight. As they circled around him, one charged in with a K-BAR, a combat knife commonly used with the Marines, and other US Special Forces units. It was cause for concern that the traditional gangland members were being replaced with paramilitary forces. Without hesitation, Batman sidestepped the assailant and grabbing his wrist then rotating it forward, used the man's momentum sending him flying into two others. The circular pattern of the men made them prime targets for one of the costumes new integrated weapons. At the point of each of his cape's scallops was a weight. With the swoop of an arm the weighted tips came up smashing into face after face of unsuspecting goon. His targets now down, he grunted Isley's name. He ran towards the edge of the roof, and throwing out his arms, jumped. He began gliding down, rounding the corner of the building. He picked his target window, grabbed a charge from his belt. By the time he realized that the bomblet had bounced off the window without exploding, it was too late. He tried pitching his arms forward, to throw the weights from his cape into the window. It didn't work. His head impacted the plate glass about an inch over his left eye. His cowl was reinforced with Kevlar, but a combination of rage, confusion over the equipment malfunction, and physics conspired against him, and as he hit the window he knew he was going to loose consciousness. Having multiple switches for his emergency beacon, he somehow managed to toggle one before blacking out. The weighted cape wrapped around him like a bolo and like a bag of trash thrown out of the window he tumbled down towards the unforgiving concrete of the city streets.

**The shot** to the ribs stunned Robin, but he managed to stay conscious. "Raise him up!" Commanded the man who Robin now confirmed was the senior of the three. Without hesitation the mutant plant lifted him up a foot or so and he came to rest eye level with the mercenary. "Peak-a-boo." Robin playfully cooed as the man's gruff and unshaven face came into view. The response was, as expected, a smack to the face. Robin laughed it off and waited for the best moment to launch his surprise attack without getting shot. His chest plate had ballistic protection, but military personnel and weapons meant the possibility of armor piercing rounds, not something Tim wanted to find out the hard way. "Looks like the 'birdie-boy' is awake." He cajoled this captive boy, unaware of the two threats in the room. It is frequently mused that the world's greatest fighters had "eyes in the back of their head." This was due to their ability to seemingly 'see' attacks coming from behind them, or fight effectively in situations of sensory deprivation. In a world where aliens walked the streets, and men ran at speeds fast enough to rupture the very fabric of reality, this skill was not supernatural. When a fighter or monk, the skill as many martial arts techniques was developed in a monastery, obtained a high enough awareness of his or her surroundings, they could sense the changes in air pressure around them caused by an object moving through space; such as a fist or weapon. The ex-marine of 20 years was surprised to see that in spite of the physical pain he was inflicting upon his prisoner, he began to smile. "Whats so funny?" He snarled in Robin's face. "Backups here." Robin said matter-of-factly. As he arched his back and rolled to the left the black and blue escrima stick sailed past his head buzzing his ear. It would later take two surgeons a total of five hours to reconstruct the man's nose. The moment the eight kilo perfectly weighted carbon polymer weapon impacted the marine's face, his legs went to jelly. He collapsed on the floor like a rag doll. The second he was out of Robin's line of fire, he grabbed two shiruken of the convenient holder of the same shape located on his left breast that doubled as his identifying emblem. It was a feature that not even Batman's costume had. With a Frisbee like motion, he flung the two projectile blades across the room striking both men in the right shoulder, paralyzing them down to the fingertips. As Robin threw, his guardian angel threw once again. Robin felt the vine give way and anticipated his fall. When his arms hit the ground he folded them in, rolling over. He turned his recovery into an attack, using the momentum of the roll to spring off his arms kicking the two men, conveniently grouped together, in the chests sending them cascading back into their card table, rendering them unconscious. His enemies out of commission, Robin began to compose himself, collecting his equipment from around the room. He turned to the far corner of the room, and looked up into the rafters, black with shadows. Half joking, half annoyed, he asked the nothingness, "What took you so long? You must have been there for like five minutes." His smile lit up the darkness, "I was seeing if you could take care of it yourself." He laughed, "You took so long I fell asleep. The explosion woke me up." "HA…HA!" Tim spit back, his words dripping with sarcasm. His tone became almost business like as Dick, or rather Nightwing, jumped down into the light. "I suppose you know Ivy is here." "Really?" Nightwing toyed. "I thought the Riddler was using plants now." The playful banter between the two costumed vigilantes was neither from spite nor jealously. The two were less like colleagues then they were brothers. Both of them had lost family to murder and it was a terrible pain that bonded them together. Dick was the closest thing Tim had to a positive role-model, out of costume, as Bruce was lacking in some of the more social qualities that an adolescent needed. "Where's Batman?" Tim asked, not really as concerned as he was anxious to join the fight. "_Bleep…Bleep…Bleep" _The emergency beacon sounded in the comm. systems they both had integrated into their masks, almost as an answer to Tim's question. _"Master's Richard and Timothy, can you hear me?"_ Alfred's voice reached through their earpieces, with a sense of urgency uncharacteristic of the secret agent turned butler and confidant to the world's greatest detective. "We're here Alf' what's wrong?" Dick responded with a tinge of fear in his voice. Alfred was calling them in the middle of a fight; the alarm was no coincidence. Before Dick could vocalize is concern, Tim interjected, confirming what they all already knew. "Its Batman's emergency beacon and its not moving. Batman's…down."

**The cascading **droplets of rain seemed only to kick him while he was down. Bruce Wayne had a pain tolerance higher then most men. However if his vocal chords weren't currently bruised, then he would be moaning in pain. He had just survived a fall that would kill all but the most resilient being. His stomach tightened and he started to wretch again. This time it wasn't just blood he was vomiting, but chunks of flesh came up as well. In all his years as Batman, this was the worst he was ever injured. Except maybe for when Bane had broken his back….._ahhh _his back. The pain was a white hot fire that washed over him with impossible speed. The pain was indiscriminant, every square inch of his body screamed at him to make the pain stop. He was fading in and out of consciousness, and even that was a struggle. His eyes blurred; he couldn't make anything out amongst the tears, blood, and rain; not even the two figures about to descend upon him.

**Vacationing was **the reason why she was in Gotham, so Mia figured she owed it to Ollie and Conner to at least try and take it easy. As the limo pulled up in front of the Gotham Arms Hotel, Mia realized just how out of place she felt amongst the wealthy and famous. While she loved her new "family" as it were, she was from the streets, and now that she was living this kind of life, it was awkward for her. Having the car door opened for her and a bellhop to unload her bags seemed very unnecessary. She stepped out of the car and took in a breath of Gotham City air. While both cities were similar in climate, Gotham was much damper than Star City… at least it was at night. As she looked up to see how high the building stretched into the sky, three GCPD squad cars came screeching past the hotel, lights flashing, and sirens blaring. She instinctively turned to follow, but quickly remembered where she was, and that she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt not a cape and cowl. She checked in and was stunned at the voluminous and ornate suite. She unpacked most of her clothes and turned on the TV. She filled a glass of water and took out her pills. Swallowing them down was no fun, but still a necessity. She made sure her "equipment" was in a place that wouldn't be discovered by the cleaning staff. Though she was sure they wouldn't be able to open the cases anyway. Mia felt restless in the room which was way too big for her tastes. She decided to go for a walk¸ see what the Gotham nightlife had to offer. The air was a bit colder now, and it caught Mia off guard. She put her wallet in her back pocket and made sure she had her pocket knife on her; she may not be on patrol, but she wasn't stupid enough to walk around Gotham unarmed. She had gotten about five blocks when she heard it. The woman screamed for help at the top of her lungs. As Mia rounded the corner, now in a light sprint, she saw a scantily clad woman, probably a hooker, being dragged by her hair into the alleyway. Having been a "lady of the night" herself, Mia immediately empathized. That, coupled with her sense of duty, caused her to charge blindly into the alley. As she entered the shadows, the reality of the situation became very clear. Four men surrounded the helpless woman, now on her knees. They each had various weapons ranging from steel knuckles and a switchblade, to a semi-automatic pistol. Mia flipped open her knife and asserted herself quickly, attempting to use shock to take control of the situation. "LET HER GO NOW!" Mia screamed with an intensity that was uncharacteristic of a young woman her age. Unfortunately for Mia, her life had forced her to mature well past her years. As planned, the men all laughed at her audacious command. "And why would we do that, little lady?" Mia replied with a voice cold as ice, "Cause if you don't I will have to make you. And I am on vacation." More laughing ensued. Mia knew the gun was the biggest threat, so the man holding it was her first target. Her arm moved with such speed, no one even saw her throw. The knife entered the man's right shoulder and lodged itself in the joint. He dropped the pistol and yelled out in pain as small rivulets of blood trickled down his arm. Her right hook hit him at the base of his skull, instantly knocking him unconscious. She threw a back kick and hit the next man in the abdomen. An elbow thrown down into his skull, floored him as well. The men were so stunned to see a teenage girl fighting with such voracity they had trouble defending themselves. She used their own movements against them, pulverizing the scum that threatened the defenseless woman. She was so engrossed in the fight, happy to release the anxiety she had over her surroundings, she did not notice the first man had regained consciousness. It took her less than five minutes to dispatch the pimp and his crew. All the men taken care of, Mia reached out for the sobbing woman and helped her up. "Th…thank you." She whimpered. "Of course." Mia consoled. "I've been where you are once so I know how you…" The widening of the woman's eyes told Mia all she needed to know. She turned her head to meet the butt of the gun. It hit her about an inch above her left temple. Her knees went to mush as she crumbled to the ground. The hooker screamed and ran towards the vacant end of the alley. Her attackers no longer in pursuit, they gradually came to and circled Mia who had embarrassed them so. They would spend ten minutes or so beating Mia before leaving her battered and bloody body lying lifeless in the shadows.

**The decision** to let Ivy go was a regrettable one, and Bruce would criticize them for it. If it was Dick's or Tim's beacon, or even Cassandra's, Batman would have made the same decision. When it came to him though, he always made it clear he put more importance on his mission than his life. None of it mattered to them now as Bruce, the closest thing either of them had to a father, was hurt or possibly worse. Tim could see the anger in Dick's eyes as he picked up the steel framed chair off the floor and swung at the shards of glass remaining in the window after the blast. In perfect sequence, both of the young men ran towards the wall springing across the alley. The toe of Tim's boot hit the opposing windowsill. His ankle strained under the pressure of his body's momentum, still weak from the crushing grip of the vine. He saw Dick not even a half step behind him and they both launched into a half back flip, ending in a dive. They looked up, towards their feet, and fired their grapnels. They secured their lines by snapping the carabiners in place on their utility belts. Returning their gazes downward, they glided safely towards the ground with the lines providing the proper resistance. About five feet above the ground, they flipped over one again, planting their feet on the wet asphalt. The GPS satellites which had marked Bruce's position on the HUD in their masks, was useless at this point, as it only gave a position within a three meters. They split up, each taking a different end of the alley to search, about every meter or so, they each shouted out a 'negative' to signify that they hadn't found him. When Tim didn't respond, Dick turned and sprinted towards him. Dick froze, as what could hardly be called a man, came into view. He was speechless, and as he turned to Tim, he saw the young boy on his hands and knees, vomiting on the street. Dick turned back towards Batman, and had to fight back vomiting himself as he noticed that Batman wasn't breathing.

_End Chapter Two_


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